


The Long Way Round

by ironicsubversion



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christophe thinks he's cupid, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, cuteness, or a lot bitter man, victor doesn't mind, yurio is a little bitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:37:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicsubversion/pseuds/ironicsubversion
Summary: Yuuri just wants to get home after a disastrous Grand Prix Finals performance. Unluckily (or perhaps not so much) for him, Christophe has a few other ideas.





	The Long Way Round

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies!! This fic is part of the Yuri!!! On Ice Reverse Bang event on tumblr, and is inspired by the most AMAZING artwork by tumblr user bechkit - seriously, you guys have to check out her stuff, she's absolutely amazing!!!! Anyway, hope you all enjoy <33

Art by tumblr user bechkit

In the progressively rarer times Drunk Yuuri was permitted to escape, Sober Yuuri was becoming increasingly certain his alter ego was a complete asshole. Case in point – why the _hell_ had Drunk Yuuri left his blinds wide open for oh-so-bright morning sunlight to stream gleefully in and smack him in the face at a ridiculous hour?

Yuuri groaned, pulling the puffy hotel comforter up over his head and plunging himself into a glorious realm of darkness; however, the fight to go back to sleep was a useless one – once he was awake, he was awake, and he’d long-since learned he was better off to simply accept his fate. Awarding Drunk Yuuri another thorough round of mental cursing, Yuuri wiggled closer to the edge of the bed until he could reach the bedside table, slipping one hand out from under the comforter to feel around until his fingers brushed against a hard metal casing. _Ah-ha!_

Snatching his phone, he pulled it under the cover with him, mentally preparing himself for the brightness of the display but still feeling physically like he’d been stabbed in the eyes when he flicked the phone open. The screen was an indiscernible blur, and Yuuri waited for his eyes to adjust for what felt like an inordinately long amount of time before he chanced upon the memory that, oh yeah, this task was pretty much impossible without his glasses. Heaving a great, annoyed sigh at himself, he snuck a hand out of the covers again, feeling around until they brushed up against _another_ cold metal casing. Yanking the glasses under the covers, he quickly shoved them on, blinking as his eyes slowly adjusted and focused on the glowing screen.

Yuuri stifled another internal groan at the sight of the time – 10:52 a.m. Well, at least he hadn’t been unceremoniously woken up inordinately _early_ , he supposed. And considering he had no memory after arriving at the banquet at Celestino's insistence and drinking a couple of glasses of champagne to cover up the awful taste of his failure in the Finals, it was probably a bit of a miracle he'd woken up this early at all. Small blessings. But he’d always hated how it felt to wake up when a day was half over already, not to mention – wait, _when did his and Celestino’s flight leave?_

Breath catching and jerking up slightly, his eyes returned to the display – he didn’t have any missed calls from Celestino, or even any texts. In fact, the only message he _did_ have was from some number saved under a name that was entirely incoherent to Yuuri, looking more like it was the result of a random keyboard smash than an actual attempt at a name. Yuuri mentally cursed Drunk Yuuri again; couldn’t Drunk Yuuri be a bit more careful about adding new numbers??

Ignoring the message from what Yuuri guessed was some rando Drunk Yuuri had talked to at the banquet the night before for now, Yuuri pulled up his coach’s number and hit call. Pulling the phone to his ear, Yuuri listened anxiously as the phone rang – and rang and rang, until finally Celestino (thank _heavens_ ) picked up.

“Oh, Yuuri, I didn’t think you’d be up yet,” his coach’s voice sounded tinny over the phone – but was that a bit of guilt in his tone? Yuuri dismissed it – he’d performed so poorly yesterday, his coach probably was still feeling bad for him.

“I didn’t miss the flight, then?” Yuuri asked, relieved and flopping back down onto the bed. Celestino’s cough sounded over the speakers.

“Oh, you’re not flying out with me today – you, uh, asked me to change your flight to a later one,” Celestino said – and there was something in his tone, something that was juuuust a little off. 

“I asked you to change my flight?” Yuuri asked, confused and racking his memory for when he might’ve done that. “When? And why? Wait, when is my flight, then?”

“It’s in a couple of days,” Celestino reassured him, and a less befuddled Yuuri might’ve noticed his careful avoidance of the other questions.

“A couple of _days_ from now? Coach Celestino, what – “

“You should probably check your messages, Yuuri. I’d bet…someone...has explained everything,” Celestino interrupted, then hesitated. “…I think this will be good for you. Have some fun, kid.” And then Yuuri was on the receiving end of a very unsympathetic dial tone.

What the hell? What did Celestino mean this would be good for him? What would be good for him? He felt like just getting out of the country and away from his failure would've been good for him, and he'd have expected Celestino would know he'd just want to get away at this point. They'd been working together for years, now, after all. Admittedly, now that Yuuri was thinking about it, Celestino and Phichit seemed to be annoyingly on the same page about pushing Yuuri out of his comfort zone, with Phichit attempting to subtly force the issue by pestering Yuuri to go out with him and some of the other skaters between seasons and pulling Yuuri along to club meetings and events and other shit that the college offered that Yuuri'd have never left the room for otherwise. Celestino never really made an active attempt to push Yuuri past what he enjoyed - but Yuuri supposed that didn't preclude the possibility that he was doing so this time.

Sighing, Yuuri followed Celestino's advice, flipping to check his messages, disgruntled that the message from someone whose name he'd mangled was the only new message he'd received - which unfortunately (to him) meant that he apparently hadn't changed his plans for the purpose of meeting up with anyone he'd known before last night. How awkward was it going to be if he and Mystery Number had made plans that Mystery Number expected him to follow through on, and Yuuri didn't even recognize him when they met up? This was going to be embarrassing, Yuuri could just feel it now.

But there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Yuuri opened the message.

"Had a great time last night, looking forward to seeing you this morning! (＾▽＾) We're all meeting in the lobby at 11:30, don't be late!"

Yuuri blinked, mystified. He glanced at the contact name again, brow furrowing as though the randomly-arrayed letters might magically assemble themselves into something that held some sort of meaning if he stared hard enough. No such luck. 

Should he even go to this - whatever _this_ was? Yuuri bit his lip, contemplating. He could very easily pretend to have not received the message and wait long enough that whatever group he'd apparently made plans with would _have_ to leave him behind, then just change his flight to an earlier time. Celestino might be unhappy with him, but, if Yuuri acted like he'd never gotten a message, what could he really say? Yuuri didn't really like group excursions anyway, and group excursions with a bunch of strangers after he'd just embarrassed himself in the finals? No, thank you. Celestino would understand.

Decision made, Yuuri glanced around his room, sighing at the mess he'd made when he'd gotten back - whenever that had been. Geez, he hated not being able to remember what had happened the night before. He was pretty sure he'd probably just ended up sitting in a corner and drinking all night, since that was all he'd been in the mood to do, but not being able to confirm that through his memories bothered him.

Pushing himself out of the nice, warm confines of his bed, Yuuri quickly decided the first task on the agenda was a hot, cleansing shower because _fuck_ if he didn't smell like booze. Not to mention, it'd be nice to scrub off all the awfulness of the previous day and the gross feeling that drinking and passing out gave him. He glanced at the clock. 11:17. Surely by 11:45 the group meeting in the lobby would have left him behind to go on whatever misadventure they'd apparently planned; he could probably go down and see about check-out after that.

The scalding shower water delivered exactly the sort of cleansing Yuuri had been craving, and by the time he'd stepped out and toweled off, he knew enough time had passed to start working on getting home. He rubbed the towel over his still-dripping hair, wrapping it around his waist - just in time to hear three quick raps on his door. Housekeeping, maybe? The knocks sounded again.

"Yuuri, are you in there?" a voice called out in English, and oh, fuck, that was _not_ housekeeping, unless housekeeping had suddenly gotten a lot more familiar with him. But who was it, then? Yuuri couldn't hint of anyone he'd gotten close enough to here who would either know his room number or come check on him now that Celestino was gone. Unless - but no, surely that group would've already left without him. Yuuri knew he couldn't have been that much fun at the banquet last night, so there was no reason they'd want him along so badly that they'd come looking for him. It had to just be hotel staff coming to make sure he was going to check out on time or something - they probably needed to clean the room for whoever was staying there tonight.

That thought in mind, Yuuri rushed to the door, pulling it open. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not -" he started, apologies tumbling off his lips rapidly - and then completely freezing in place as the figure behind the door registered, and it was definitely _not_ hotel staff.

"You're not ready yet?" Victor Nikiforov said, easy smile that melted the hearts of a thousand fangirls crossing his lips.

Victor Nikiforov. Victor Nikiforov was at his door, looking at him with a friendly smile like they knew each other an _d ohmyword Yuuri was in nothing but a towel._

And then Yuuri did the one thing he was fairly certain Victor I-Want-To-Always-Do-The-Unexpected Nikiforov probably didn't expect - he slammed the door shut in his hero's face.

_What the hell was Victor doing outside his door?_ Yuuri was having what amounted to a mental breakdown on the other side of the door - the door he'd just slammed shut without a word of explanation. While in only a towel. Oh heavens, could this get any more mortifying?

Flying around his room, Yuuri pulled on the first clothes he could get his hands on, rushing back to the door as soon as he was properly clothed. He paused, taking in a moment to suck in a deep breath, momentarily freak out, and then pulled open the door.

Well, either he hadn't hallucinated the first time around or this was a particularly persistent hallucination, because Victor was still standing outside his door, looking unfairly put together in a perfectly-rumpled collared shirt and tie, silver hair effortlessly mussed.

"U-uh sorry," Yuuri stuttered, eyes wide. Victor only smiled, eyes dancing.

"No problem," he responded easily. "Do you need a minute to finish packing? Or are you ready now?" 

"Ready?" Yuuri asked, confused. "For what?" Victor cocked his head at him.

"For the trip?" Victor said, voice turning up at the end, making his statement into a question. "I sent you a text this morning..." 

Yuuri's eyes widened - the Mystery Number was _Victor_? He had Victor's number? What the actual fuck had happened last night??

"O-oh, right, I just..." Yuuri trailed off, uncertain as to how to complete that thought; there was absolutely no way he was confessing to his idol that he'd completely forgotten that they'd even spoken last night, let alone apparently made plans. Thankfully, Victor was perfectly willing to fill in the blanks for him.

"You were probably pretty out of it when you woke up, yeah? You had an...intense night last night," Victor filled in, giving him a teasing smile, but Yuuri's blood ran cold. Intense night? So it was probably a bit too much to hope for to assume he'd just quietly hung out in a corner all night, with _that_ description.

Yuuri forced a laugh that sounded strained even to his own ears, and Victor's brow creased. "Yeah, right, last night, um," he stammered, flustered. Victor's grin returned full-force, and if Yuuri'd felt incoherent before, that was nothing compared to how he felt now.

"Not getting all embarrassed now, are you? There's definitely no need - it was a lot of fun," Victor reassured him, eyes dancing with mirth. "Anyway, everyone's downstairs, so whenever you're ready we can all head out!"

"Everyone?" Yuuri squeaked out. Who else had seem him do - whatever it was he did last night?

"Yeah, we're just waiting on you!" Victor chirped, and Yuuri flushed. They'd waited on him - he couldn't decide if he was more touched or dismayed. "I'll leave you to pack, and you can just meet us down there - unless you want help packing?" Was that - was that _hope_ in Victor's eyes? That Yuuri would want help packing? Yuuri mentally shook himself; no need to get carried away.

"No, no, I'm fine, I'll just throw everything in my suitcase and be down quickly," Yuuri responded hastily. Something Yuuri ~~delusionally~~ hoped was disappointment flashed across Victor's face, but it was quickly replaced with a bright smile.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it, then," Victor said, and Yuuri offered a nod of acknowledgment, starting to close the door. "And Yuuri?" Yuuri stopped, looking at Victor, whose smile had turned amused. "Might want to fix your shirt before you come down." And then the five-time Grand Prix gold-medalist winked and whirled away.

Yuuri panicked, glancing down at his shirt - and yes, he had indeed had his shirt on backwards in front of his idol. Of course. Yuuri let out a long sigh that didn't even half cover the amount of existential despair he was experiencing over what had to be the most bizarre morning he'd ever had. The only rational explanation he could think of was that he'd smacked his head against the ice sometime yesterday during his abysmal performance and hadn't remembered, and he was now currently in a coma at a hospital somewhere having an incredibly realistic coma-dream. Seemed a lot more likely than Victor Nikiforov showing up at his hotel room and acting like he wanted to actually spend time with some nobody Japanese skater after he'd embarrassed himself so horribly at the Finals.

Somehow, thinking of the entire situation as a bizarrely detailed dream helped motivate spring Yuuri into action - he couldn't exactly not show up downstairs now, since Victor had come upstairs and told him everyone was waiting on him. Pushing away from the door (and switching his shirt around so it was on the correct way as he went), Yuuri started picking up his room, tossing clothes and toiletries and other items that had ended up strewn around the small space over the past couple of days into his suitcase. When the room was clean, he gave one final once over, taking in a deep breath to brace himself for whatever weird situation was coming his way before exiting the room.

The elevator ride seemed to take forever, Yuuri's tension building as reality started re-setting in. He wondered who the "everyone" Victor had been referring to could be - and how he'd gotten pulled into being a part of whatever outing they were going on. 

Finally, the elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor, doors sliding open. 

"Yuuri! About time - Angry Yuri's been trying to convince everyone you weren't coming!" a loud, excited voice boomed out, and Yuuri suppressed a flinch, eyes landing on the beaming face of one Christophe Giacometti. The Swiss skater sashayed over to Yuuri as the latter stepped out of the elevator, slipping a congenial arm around Yuuri's shoulder, half-dragging Yuuri over to where a small group was standing in a broken circle in the center of the lobby. Christophe sighed dramatically, pouting theatrically as they closed the circle. "I told him my partner in crime would _never_ leave me like that - right, Yuuri?" Yuuri turned to stare at Christophe, baffled - which turned out to be a mistake, as the Swiss skater batted his lashes coquettishly at Yuuri, and Yuuri glanced away quickly, eyes fixing on a much safer pattern on the carpet. Honestly, what the _hell_? He and Christophe had never really even spoken to each other!

"Weren't you just saying that _you_ might have to ditch your, uh, partner in crime?" Yuuri had to keep his eyes from snapping up at Victor's voice, which sounded strangely more irritated than it had at Yuuri's room. Christophe's arm dropped off Yuuri's shoulder, and Yuuri chanced a glance up at the rest of the group. To his great misfortune, he made eye contact with someone who made clear exactly who Christophe had been referring to when he'd said "Angry Yuri" - Yuri Plisetsky was glaring at him with all he was worth, and Yuuri could feel himself shrinking, residual embarrassment from their interaction in the bathroom the previous day swinging back around. Averting his eyes, Yuuri noted that next to Yuri completing the circle was, of course, Victor, still unfairly outshining everyone in the vicinity just by existing. 

Victor's gaze was, thankfully, trained on Christophe, who was clearly preparing to launch into some even more dramatic monologue, if the set of his face was any indication. "Yes, I can't believe my misfortune, but my flight was non-transferable -"

"How is that even possible?" Yuri spat from beside Christophe, looking annoyed. "You and Victor were flying through the same airline, and that moron managed to get _his_ trans - OW! You prick, that was my foot!" Yuri glared at Christophe, who only smiled serenely at him.

"Sorry, it was an accident," Christophe said innocently, although Yuuri thought it seemed like a pretty strange accident to stomp on someone's foot when everyone was standing entirely still. Not to mention Chris hadn't exactly seemed like a klutz from what Yuuri remembered of his, uh, sensual performance in the finals. "Besides, you couldn't get yours transferred either - _could you_ , Yuri?" The last words were spoken with a weirdly direct sort of emphasis that Yuuri didn't know how to interpret. Yuri, strangely, didn't seem to think the emphasis was quite as out of the ordinary as Yuuri; the teen gritted his teeth, looking like he was in pain before letting out a sigh like he was giving in to some sort of horribly restrictive request.

"Right," Yuri gritted out, and Yuuri felt more than saw Victor turn to look at Yuri in surprise.

"You couldn't get yours transferred, Yura? We're on the same flight - I could try, if you want. Maybe you just didn't say it quite right," Victor offered.

"I said it just fine! I'm not an imbecile, you idiot," Yuri growled out, glaring at Victor murderously before turning his glare back on Christophe as though _he_ was the one somehow responsible for Yuri's ticket difficulties. Christophe didn't lose his smile, but Yuuri thought it looked more steely somehow, and Yuuri would swear Christophe's eyes narrowed at Yuri, the same way Mari's did when Yuuri tried to protest doing something he'd promised to do. Yuri looked rebellious for a moment, then his features softened into irritated resignation. "It just...couldn't transfer. I don't know. Maybe you've just got a special fucking ticket, asshole," Yuri said to Victor, annoyance coloring every word. Victor frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Ahh, that's too bad," Christophe broke in quickly, although he didn't look all that disappointed. In fact, Yuuri was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of glee as Christophe opened his mouth and said, "I guess you two will just have to go on the road trip without us."

"What?" Yuuri blurted before he was able to stop himself. "Just the two...?" Surely Christophe wasn't suggesting he and Victor go by themselves on - had he said a road trip? The mental image of himself and Victor alone in a car together was enough to make Yuuri feel almost ill; there was absolutely no way he'd be able to last long without making an absolute fool of himself in front of his hero if it was just him and Victor.

Although at the same time, being in the same space as Victor, a man he'd grown up idolizing and had admired for so, so long? Who got that sort of chance? He didn't imagine he'd be able to really speak in Victor's presence (or do much of anything, really, he'd be way too nervous), but just to be _around_ the other skater would be probably the most amazing experience of his entire life. Was it crazy for him to feel the appeal of such an opportunity?

But no, it was definitely a bad idea. Images of himself stammering over every word or saying something embarrassing or - heaven forbid - somehow letting slip the insane number of posters he had of Victor in his room ran through his head. It was a _very_ bad idea. He'd just have to figure out a way out of it - 

"Sounds alright to me," Victor said cheerfully from his other side, and Yuuri's head swiveled to stare at him. Victor was smiling congenially at Christophe, looking entirely unconcerned that his friend and his teammate weren't going to be able to go on whatever grand adventure they'd been planning.

"Um - " Yuuri started, mentally panicking - a panic that only grew when Victor turned his ridiculous smile on him.

"As long as that's alright with Yuuri, of course," Victor continued, grin remaining steadily in place, and Yuuri's brain short-circuited - which was the only way he was later able to rationalize why the fuck he'd responded the way he did.

"U-uh yeah, that's fine," Yuuri heard himself saying as though from a great distance.

And that was how he found himself twenty minutes later piling his bag into the trunk of a bright pink sports car, Christophe cheerfully waving farewell and Yuri rolling his eyes from the door to the lobby.

 

Yuuri's mind was spinning while he and Victor loaded up the car. Was he really doing this? Was he really getting into a car with Victor Nikiforov to go on some sort of mystery trip? _After_ placing last in the Grand Prix Finals by an absolutely mortifying 100 points?

And more to the point - why was _Victor_ going on this trip? Surely he hadn't simply not noticed Yuuri's horrific Finals performance. Why would he willingly spend time with someone so pathetic?

But Yuuri's unworthiness to be in Victor's presence didn't appear to faze Victor at all; the man was humming lightly to himself as he loaded the car, moving to the passenger-side door. Surprised - he'd just assumed Victor would want to drive, since the car was apparently his - Yuuri started to step forward, toward the driver's seat. But he came to a halt when Victor opened the passenger side door, keeping ahold of the handle and sopping to look expectantly at Yuuri. Stumbling, Yuuri blinked at Victor blankly. Was he...getting Yuuri's door for him? Is that what had just happened?

From the look on Victor's face and the fact that he hadn't made a single move to get into the car, Yuuri could only assume so. Biting his lip (and hoping to the highest heavens that he wasn't misinterpreting), Yuuri changed directions, moving toward the passenger side.

"Er - thanks," he said uncertainly, gathering just enough nerve to meet Victor's annoyingly-blue eyes over the top of the car door. Oh man, oh man, Victor was _so close_ \- he didn't think he'd ever been this close to his hero, it was so incredibly disconcerting. From this distance, he could see every crinkle on Victor's face as he smiled, could see the strange warmth that seemed to be aimed at Yuuri, the easy set to Victor's shoulders, as though Victor was perfectly comfortable and relaxed. 

"No problem," Victor responded, and Yuuri slipped into the seat. Victor shut the car door for him and stepped gracefully around the car, sliding into the driver's seat. The door closed, and it was official - they were off.

 

 

It was awkward. 

Yuuri wasn't _surprised_ that it was awkward - he'd been pretty much the living embodiment of awkward since he was born, so it wasn't exactly unusual for him. But somewhere in the back of his mind he'd always kind of hoped that if he were ever to be in a situation where he could interact with Victor, they'd have some sort of magical, mythical connection where they didn't have to go through the shitty, uncomfortable we-don't-really-know-each-other-but-we're-trying situation. Yes, he knew it was a dumbass dream born of watching far too many j-dramas during his childhood and romcoms with Phichit in college (if he'd been straight or bi, he'd totally have been in love with Jennifer Garner in 13 Going on 30, sue him); but all the same, he couldn't help but be a little disappointed it hadn't happened the way it did in his daydreams. 

Or maybe it was only awkward for him? Admittedly, Victor seemed comfortable enough - or, he guessed Victor was pretty comfortable at least, since the other man was humming away cheerfully in the driver's seat, seemingly unbothered by the silence. That was something people did when they were comfortable, right? There was a little half-smile on his face, and his eyes were trained on the road in a manner that spoke of a serene focus, though the focus seemed unnecessary since he seemed to be navigating pretty easily. Yuuri couldn't imagine he'd be faking the focus, though, so he took advantage of Victor's lack of attention on him to stare maybe a little more obviously than he might've otherwise.

It was probably dumb, and he was probably going to get caught and found out for the ridiculous Victor fanboy that he was. He could already imagine the weirded-out look Victor would give him, the careful consideration of whether they'd gotten too far from the hotel to turn back and escape this trip - but he couldn't help it. It was just _bizarre_ , to see Victor in such a normal setting after so many years of admiring the flawless, godlike image Victor presented on the ice. It made Victor feel less...aloft and unattainable, somehow, to see him in such an average setting - even though even still the last word Yuuri would really use to describe Victor was "average." He certainly didn't look average with the sun slanting in the car window behind him, adding a golden glimmer to already-stunning silver hair and a warmth to icy blue eyes.

Yeah, "less unattainable" really didn't mean all that much.

"Gotten a good enough look?"

OH PLEASE NO.

Victor's voice was warm and amused - but for Yuuri it felt like he might as well have been blaring an alarm that screamed "Creeper alert!" at a decibel calculated to wake even Mari from the depths of slumber.

Stupid. Stupid stupid _stupid_. Yuuri felt his face turn bright red, and he snapped his gaze away. "S-sorry," he managed to squeak out, silently wondering whether the car was moving too fast for him to tuck-and-roll out.

"No, no, I don't mind," Victor's voice sounded teasing, but Yuuri imagined that was probably to cover up how creeped out he was feeling. Yuuri was impressed Victor sounded so calm about being locked in the car with a weirdo. Geez, he was mortified. But Victor's still-teasing voice interrupted his internal screeching. "But it's only fair that I get to take just as long a look at you later."

Yuuri's eyes snapped back to Victor before he could stop himself. Victor's eyes met his, twinkling mischievously, sly smile in place. Was he - was Victor _flirting_?

Before he could entertain _that_ insane thought any further, Yuuri spotted a blur from the corner of his eye. "Car!" he cried, pointing frantically, and Victor broke eye contact, swerving to pull them back into their lane from where they'd drifted nearly entirely into the opposite one, a very pissed-off (and probably terrified) car honking angrily at them as it sped by.

"Oops," Victor said nonchalantly, as though nearly dying via a fiery vehicular accident happened to him all the time. Yuuri's heart hammered in his chest erratically - although frankly it was a toss up as to whether that was due to nearly ending up smashed into another car or because, for a hot second, he'd gotten the crazy idea that Victor Nikiforov could be interested in _him_.

But the moment had broken (thankfully? regretfully?), and now Yuuri had a new concern on his mind.

"Um, V-Victor?" Yes, Yuuri tripped up over his name. Sue him. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I was thinking we might stop by the Kremlin first! It's one of the places they say all tourists should see, and I know it might seem lame to go to tourist attractions, but it really is a must-see, I think. The only thing is that it's a pretty long drive to the Kremlin, and we'll probably have to do that leg without too many extra distractions and side-stops but I think it'll be worth it. And then we _have_ to stop by Novgorod - the food in that city is exquisite, there are so many places I want to take you. Oh, and the history is pretty interesting too, you'll probably enjoy that," Victor added, his voice almost childlike in its excitement, to the point that Yuuri somehow almost wouldn't have been surprised to see this 27-year-old man bouncing up and down in his seat like an animated child headed for an amusement park. Yuuri couldn't help but smile a little at his enthusiasm - although he felt more confused by the answer.

"That sounds like a pretty long trip, especially since we'd have to get all the way back to the airport - what day did Celestino move my ticket to?" he murmured, almost more to himself than anything - he didn't expect Victor to know the answer to that particular question. But Victor shot him a surprised look (before thankfully returning his eyes to the road).

"We're not going back to Sochi - we're road tripping to St. Petersburg, and you're flying out from there. Remember?" Victor asked, sounding slightly confused at Yuuri's lapse.

Yuuri was absolutely not answering with the truth. With all the embarrassing shit he'd already done in Victor's presence today, there was absolutely no way the words, "No, I don't remember - in fact, I don't remember even speaking to any of the other skaters outside of the competition, let alone making plans for a _road trip_ " were leaving his mouth. What the hell had Drunk Yuuri been thinking?

Okay, actually how on earth _had_ Drunk Yuuri swung this? A road trip with Victor, Christophe Giacometti, and Yuri Plisetsky? What parallel universe had manifested itself at the party that prompted this situation to even happen?

But here he was - on a road trip with Victor Nikiforov. By himself. In which Victor was apparently excited to show him around his home country.

At this point, Yuuri would've been entirely certain all of this was some sort of bizarre, hyper-realistic dream except that he's fairy certain even his subconscious couldn't have come up with this scenario.

"Right," he finally responded faintly. "Of course. Silly me. Just...forgot for a second."

Well, at least it sounded better than never having remembered in the first place. Victor shot him a sympathetic look.

"I told Chris we should leave later. Yesterday was a long day for everyone, and we were all up late last night. But he insisted we should get up and go before anyone had the chance to, uh, "chicken out" is how he described it, I think," Victor explained, brow furrowing at the phrase, then he shook his head exasperatedly. "And then he didn't even end up coming! The hypocrite."

Yuuri noticed Victor didn't actually seem all that angry; his tone was more fond when he talked about the Swiss skater's antics than anything. Yuuri couldn't help but feel a little jealous. The only skater he'd ever really been close to was Phichit; he'd always found it difficult to socialize with the others all that much, and his reserve had limited the number of group hang-out offers. But Victor and Christophe both had the sort of easy, social personalities that Yuuri supposed he shouldn't be surprised they'd made friends with one another and probably some of the other skaters.

Probably explained why they'd befriend him, too. 

From the expectant silence radiating from the other side of the car, Yuuri realized with a jolt that Victor probably expected some sort of response. "Er, yeah, it's too bad his ticket wouldn't transfer," he fumbled.

"And that's another thing that doesn't make sense!" Victor exclaimed. "Our tickets transferred easily enough - why wouldn't theirs? I think Chris is up to something, I'm just not sure what. What do you think?"

Yuuri thought he'd exchanged about four words with the Swiss skater that he remembered and was in no position to speculate about the other man's motivations (although he'd admit it certainly was strange). "Maybe he's just bad at negotiating with airline personnel?" he suggested weakly. Victor shook his head beside him, looking thoughtful.

"They were really accommodating when I called them. He's up to something, and he's dragged Yura into it," Victor said with conviction.

"Yuri seems like he'd be hard to drag into anything unwillingly, though," Yuuri commented unthinkingly, and Victor laughed aloud, the sound ringing through the car.

"Well, you're not wrong about that," he conceded, grinning, affection coloring his tone. "He can be annoyingly stubborn when he wants to be."

Stubborn was a polite way of putting it in Yuuri's opinion, the scene from the bathroom flashing through his head.

"How about you? What are your rinkmates like?" Victor asked, and Yuuri smiled a little to himself, thinking of Phichit.

"Well, I don't really know many of them all that well, but one of them is my best friend. He's...a character. He's pretty loud, but in a fun, outgoing way, and he likes to take care of everyone, always trying to make sure all the other skaters at our rink are comfortable and not overdoing anything," Yuuri said, remembering all the times Phichit had helped him through his pre-competition anxiety. He laughed a little to himself as one particularly-noteworthy memory rose to the surface. "He made me sing with him one time to try to distract me when I was really nervous before a competition. Not in front of anyone, of course, but we'd just seen High School Musical - that really cheesy American Disney musical that came out years ago - and he managed to talk me into doing that "Bop to the Top" duet with him in one of the rooms in the back. Our coach caught us halfway through," Yuuri admitted, recalling how embarrassed he'd been at the time. Phichit's plan had done it's job, though; Yuuri's nerves had all but dissipated before that part of the competition, and it had been one of his best performances. 

The sound of Victor's laughter pulled him out of his reverie. "He sounds delightful," Victor said warmly, and, even from the sideways angle, Yuuri was pretty sure he could see blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Wish he'd gotten your duet on camera, though," Victor added, a tinge of mischief in his voice.

"Oh, geez," Yuuri groaned, suddenly thankful that particular event had happened before Phichit had gotten so obsessed with documenting every move for social media. Hi buried his face in his hands, picturing the humiliation. "I'm lucky he didn't, that would've been mortifying."

"I bet it was really cute! I'm guessing you'd be opposed to giving me a live re-performance when we stop?" Victor teased, and Yuuri shot him a dark look.

"Very opposed," he agreed vehemently, and Victor laughed openly, face alight. Yuuri's stomach fluttered pleasantly at the sight, a wam feeling sweeping through him at the easiness of the conversation. It registered for the first time since the conversation had started that he was actually having a real talk with Victor - and he wasn't completely flubbing it. In fact, it was strangely kind of natural.

A bit of the knot in his stomach started to unwind. Maybe he could do this.

 

***

 

It was simple after that, somehow. Conversation ebbed and flowed with minimal effort on Yuuri's part, though Yuuri couldn't say for sure later what all they'd even talked about. Nothing too heavy, he knew; he'd have remembered that. But even idle chatting was far more than Yuuri'd thought to anticipate, and Yuuri couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to have such natural conversation with anyone so quickly.

It took him almost by surprise, when he glanced out the car window and realized how dark it had gotten. He and Victor had stopped a couple of times at gas stations and snacked on whatever unhealthy chips and candy Victor had recommended, but it occurred to Yuuri that they'd probably need to stop to sleep soon. Yuuri had no idea how far away their first stop was supposed to be, but it was getting late enough that he'd guess they weren't going to make it there tonight.

And sure enough, Yuuri heard the tell-tale click of the blinker to signify Victor was taking an exit.

"Hope you don't mind if we stop for the night," Victor said from beside him, his voice distinctively lower than it had been, the exhaustion of the day's drive settling in.

"Sure," Yuuri agreed readily, feeling a bit guilty that he'd left the driving so squarely on Victor's shoulders. "Er, if you want, I can drive some tomorrow?" he offered awkwardly, and Victor glanced at his briefly, a small smile on his lips.

"That's alright, you're not familiar with driving in Russia. I'm okay with doing the driving," Victor assured him.

The town they pulled off into appeared to be small and a little run-down with only a few slightly dilapidated buildings close to the road, with the majority of the light Yuuri could see by being provided by a convenience store lit up by glaringly bright white lights sitting next to an older-looking gas station. Victor turned right, heading further into the area, and Yuuri wondered to himself if this was a place Victor had visited before. Victor had always given off such an air of princely untouchability in his competitions that Yuuri'd always imagined his hero just flew to and from his competitions, staying in nice hotels and being waited on by excited hotel staff who were simply honored to be in Victor Nikiforov's presence. But Yuuri had to admit the carefree, spur-of-the-moment Victor he'd been getting to know seemed to match this sort of environment more easily - the convenient, practical location that _might_ not be the smartest or safest place to stay, but, eh, who really cared when adventure was to be had?

And sure enough, the motel they pulled up to didn't look like the most reputable place to stay, its neon sign flickering lazily against the star-studded sky. Victor checked them in, speaking rapidly in Russian to the bored-looking, grumpy, middle-aged man behind the counter, passing over some money and receiving two keys in return.

"Here's yours - we're right next door to each other," Victor said cheerfully when he returned, handing Yuuri his key. Yuuri nodded his thanks and handed Victor the duffel he'd unloaded from the trunk, receiving a tired smile in return. They walked to their rooms together, paint peeling ever-so-slightly from the faded numbers on the doors. "Good night, Yuuri," Victor said, giving him a small wave and disappearing into his room.

"'Night, Victor," Yuuri murmured to the closed door before slipping into his room.

 

***

 

Yuuri was woken by a loud banging to his door.

"Yuuuuuuriiiiiiii, time to get uuuuuuup," a familiar voice sing-songed, timbre only slightly muffled by the wooden barrier. Yuuri groaned loudly, pulling the covers over his head. The events from the day before hit him all at once, and he jolted up, sitting straight in his bed and slamming his glasses on.

"Uh, one second," he called, stumbling out of bed and fumbling to pull on his clothes. He heard a chuckle from the other side of the door.

"I'm going to go check us out, I'll meet you at the car," Victor called to him, and Yuuri heard his footsteps recede. Yuuri tossed what little he had out into his bag, scanning the room to make sure he hadn't missed anything before stepping outside and heading to the car. It was unlocked, and Yuuri popped the trunk, tossing his bag next to where Victor'd apparently already tossed his own and closing the trunk.

Victor still hadn't returned, so Yuuri walked back to the front of the car and leaned against the hood to wait, taking the chance to glance around. The motel looked just as run-down in the daylight as it had last night, and Yuuri was unsurprised to note they were one of the few cars in the parking lot. It was still early and, accordingly, fairly quiet, so Yuuri's eyes were immediately drawn to Victor when he stepped out of the lobby.

"Well, aren't you a welcome vision this morning," Victor called teasingly, eyes raking over Yuuri's position as he strode toward the car, and Yuuri felt himself flush; he was never going to get used to Victor's apparent natural flirtatiousness. 

"Only because your standard of comparison is lower this morning than yesterday," he countered, nodding toward the lobby and recalling the person who'd checked them in. Not that there had been anything wrong with the man that checked them in last night, but he couldn't imagine the man's grumpiness had improved overnight or was particularly pleasant in the early morning. Victor chuckled, shaking his head as he came to a stop at the car.

"You'd be a vision any morning," he disagreed with a smile, slipping into the car like the statement was nothing, and Yuuri blinked at empty air, feeling dazed. Well, alright then.

He pushed himself off the hood of the car and followed Victor's lead, ready for day 2 of their impromptu journey.

"I think we'll be able to make it to Moscow by tonight," Victor told him as he pulled out of the parking lot, infectious excitement dripping from his voice. Yuuri smiled.

"I can't wait," he said, finding with some surprise that the statement was true. His anxiety at being in such close proximity to his hero all the time hadn't completely dissipated, of course, but Victor had become less of the untouchable idol he'd placed on so high a pedestal than he'd been before and more of a real person whose company Yuuri was greatly enjoying.

Victor let out a contented hum at Yuuri's response, and they lapsed into comfortable silence for a time. Victor fiddled with the radio as they pulled onto the main road once more, flipping through a few channels that were, of course, entirely in Russian.

"My car has a phone hook-up that we can use to play music," Victor said suddenly, drawing his hand back from the radio. "If you could...?" He drifted off, and Yuuri filled in the blanks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, if you want," he agreed accommodatingly, and Victor smiled sheepishly at him. 

"I have some stuff in English on there that we could both listen to," he explained, and Yuuri nodded in understanding, touched by Victor's thoughtfulness. He plugged in the phone, fumbling a bit with the unfamiliar hook-up (Phichit always despaired at Yuuri's lack of tech-savviness) but managing it in the end.

"Was there a playlist you wanted?" Yuuri asked, searching for the music app and clicking on it. Victor shook his head.

"Play whatever you want," Victor responded with a smile. Yuuri started scrolling through his music library. The majority of the titles were in Russian, and Yuuri skipped over those, uncertain what songs those might be. But a few English titles popped up here and there, not ones he was familiar with until - 

"You have songs by the Backstreet Boys?" he asked incredulously, glancing up from the phone to stare at Victor just in time to see an embarrassed look flash over Victor's face.

"Well...I may have gone through a phase," Victor admitted, and Yuuri was shocked to see _Victor_ flush for once.

"What kind of phase?" Yuuri demanded, suddenly incredibly intrigued. And sure, he could probably scroll through the phone and find out, but dear heavens how often was he going to have the opportunity to embarrass Victor?

"Umm, you may also find some NSYNC, Destiny's Child, and Cheetah Girls on there," Victor responded, sounding just a bit mortified, and Yuuri was on cloud nine. Finally, something _he_ could give _Victor_ grief about.

"Oh my word, you _did_ go through a phase - you went through _the_ phase," Yuuri said delightedly, attention returning through the phone and flicking through the titles with relish. 

"I was new to American pop music, and their songs were catchy!" Victor cried defensively, and Yuuri cackled.

"How recently?" Yuuri asked, grinning as he scanned the familiar titles. At the resounding silence, he glanced up to see Victor glaring sheepishly at the road.

"...last year."

Yuuri couldn't hold in his peals of laughter.

"Phichit had some of these as CDs, they're practically _ancient_! How were you _that_ behind?" he asked rhetorically between giggles.

"Not all of us lived in America," Victor grumbled to no avail.

"You have so many songs from those groups! Tell me you didn't learn all the words to all of these," Yuuri begged. One glance at Victor's face told him all he needed to know, and he started laughing all over again, picturing a grown-ass Victor dancing around his room to NSYNC. Cheeks hurting, he scrolled back through the music, picking one of the songs. "You have to show me," he commanded, and the rolling, smooth opening notes of the Cheetah Girl's Cheetah Sisters song sounded over the car's speakers.

"No way!" Victor exclaimed, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"Oh come onnnnnn," Yuuri pleaded, cheeks hurting from grinning so hard, and Victor glanced over at him. Yuuri wasn't sure what Victor saw, but the other man let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine - but only if you sing with me," Victor conceded.

"Deal," Yuuri agreed immediately.

They'd missed some of the beginning during their bargaining, but they picked right up with -

_To just lose faith or trust your heart_  
To somehow lead you through the dark.  
We're not the only one who's dreaming  
Who needs help to carry on  
We might get lonely but we're not alone. 

The grand pause, and Victor and Yuuri looked at each other across the front seat of the car, both of them sucking in a great gulp of air and holding, holding, holding during the guitar riff to launch into - 

"'Cause we are sisters, we stand together!"

The car was bouncing along with them as they bopped down the road, the first words coming out as more of a dual shout than a song.

"We make up one big family though we don't look the same. Our spots are different, different colors."

Yuuri was grinning, ignoring the horrid off-key quality of his own voice to belt even louder - 

"We make each other stronger that ain't ever gonna change!" 

"Don't even miss uuuuuuus," Victor sang out by himself, and Yuuri giggled.

"That's not till later!" he called over the caterwauling, and Victor laughed, shrugging helplessly at the mistaken solo, before they both launched into - 

"We're cheetah girls, cheETAH SISTERS!"

As though through mutual agreement, they broke into uncontrollable laughter, Yuuri doubling over and clutching his aching abdomen in his seat as the song continued, nearly drowned out by their snickers.

"I guess it's a good thing we picked figure skating over singing," Victor commented, grinning broadly, and Yuuri laughed his agreement.

"If only Christophe and Yuri had been with us, then we could've had a whole quartet, like the real Cheetah Girls," Yuuri joked wistfully, and Victor let out a snort at the mental image.

"I think Yura would've jumped out of the car before he'd sing along with us," Victor grinned, and Yuuri nodded fervently in agreement as Victor glanced at him with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. "Besides, I'm glad it was just us," Victor said, and Yuuri glanced over, the words taking him by surprise. A smile spread over his face, the buoyant happiness of the moment pulling the words out of him.

"Me too," he said, and the two smiled at each other, letting the Cheetah Girls give sound to their mutual pleasure in the background.

 

***

 

The rest of the ride passed in a similar fashion, with Yuuri's DJ-ing skills resulting in a ton of Victor's "embarrassing" music getting played, the duo alternating between off-pitch sing-alongs and animated conversation about the groups. By nightfall, Yuuri's entire face ached from smiling so much, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd laughed so hard with someone other than Phichit.

They came up on Moscow before Yuuri even realized how late it had gotten, and Yuuri turned down the music as the impressive city sprawled before him, turning to stare out the window.

"Wow," he said softly, taking it in. It was stunning, the lights of the enormous city sparkling, casting a glow over the alluring mix of modernity and history encompassed by the buildings alone. Multicolored spires stuck out in the night sky, and Yuuri's eyes were drawn to these buildings that spoke of a distinct and storied culture.

He'd seen buildings like this before, of course - it wasn't his first time in Russia. But there was something different about it in this context, where he wasn't simply passing through to take part in a competition, where the view was the point of the journey rather than a distracting side-benefit to an international event.

"Interesting sight, eh?" Victor asked, and Yuuri turned, the darkness of the car making it impossible to see his expression.

"Yeah," Yuuri agreed fervently. 

Victor seemed to navigate with ease, pulling off into the city, and Yuuri was surprised to see just how many people were still out at that hour. The streets were bustling, all assortments of people busily moving from one place to the next. Yuuri tried not to stare, wondering how it must look in the daytime.

"We'll have to be a little quick," Victor said apologetically, and Yuuri glanced over. "We'll probably want to stay a little outside the city to keep hotel costs down," Victor explained, and Yuuri nodded in understanding. Victor pulled down road after road until it was almost dizzying, Yuuri's nose pressed against the window and taking in all the sights.

Everything was so impressive and stunning that he was almost caught off guard when Victor finally came to a stop.

"Here we are!" Victor announced with a broad smile, turning the car off and stepping out of the car. Yuuri followed his lead, coming face-to-face with a broad wall that stretched as far as he could see, behind which several spires towered, lit by the glow of the city.

"If we had more time, you could go inside the wall and see the citadel and all the palaces inside," Victor said, his eyes fixed on the towers. "It's really beautiful, and there's a lot of history to it - you'd probably really like it. I know you're not getting as much of it from out here, but." Victor shrugged, sounding a little uncertain.

"It's beautiful," Yuuri breathed, taking in the sight, knowing his face was the perfect picture of the awe and rapture he was feeling. He felt Victor's eyes on him, and he glanced over questioningly - then wished he hadn't. Victor's gaze on him was intense, but more quietly so, eyes speculative as though Yuuri was the view he was appreciating.

"Yeah," Victor agreed, and Yuuri's breath caught. The moment seemed to freeze in time, and Yuuri felt rooted in place, heart hammering in his chest.

"W-we should go," he finally stammered out, and Victor blinked, the moment shattering.

"Right," Victor agreed again, but he seemed somehow off-balance, thrown by something. He slid into the car without another word, and Yuuri took another minute to take one last look at the Kremlin before following him into the car.

The drive out of the city was quiet, but not oppressively so. Yuuri distracted himself by staring out the window, and Victor seemed to be concentrating on navigating. Once they'd pulled onto the main road again, though, there was less for Yuuri to distract himself with and he found himself growing tired, the long day and lack of mental distraction tugging his eyes slowly, slowly, slowly closed.

His breathing turned deep and even, head resting against the window, and he tumbled headlong into sleep listening to the dark, quiet rumbling of the car traveling along the road.  
"Yuuri. Yuuri, you need to wake up for a minute," Victor's voice, low and warm, sounded against his ear, and Yuuri hummed in content refusal to wake, shifting slightly. A small, amused chuckle sounded beside him. "C'mon, Yuuri, we're going to get you to a real bed," Victor said, and Yuuri blinked blearily until the blurred form of the front seat steadily took shape in front of him. Glancing up, he saw as though through a slightly-wavy gauze curtain, Victor stooping over him from where he'd apparently opened the passenger door and leaned inside to wake Yuuri.

Through the remaining tendrils of sleep, Yuuri felt a firm arm wrap around his waist, tugging him up and out of the car. He leaned into the warmth, letting out a much less contented hum at the introduction of more light into his hazy world, tucking his face into Victor's shoulder, away from the light. He felt a rumble of laughter roll through Victor from his position, and then he was being tugged along into a much-brighter building.

Victor guided him to a wall inside the building, striding up to the front desk to speak to whoever was working behind it. Yuuri didn't even try to follow the conversation - even if it hadn't been in Russian, he was still far too sleepy to have followed it. All the same, he could still hear the tone of the conversation shift, starting to sound far more like an argument. Victor's voice took on its less polite tone, and Yuuri absently wondered what was going on. After a few more increasingly-heated exchanges, it looked like Victor gave up, accepting the keys the worker gave him with what looked to be resignation.

Victor came over to him, and Yuuri could see the apology written on his face.

"Yuuri, I'm really sorry, but the rooms here are more expensive than I was expecting, and they won't take my card. I only had enough cash to get us one room," Victor said in a rush, sounding distraught, and Yuuri frowned sleepily, not liking seeing Victor distressed. He reached up, patting Victor's face comfortingly. Victor's eyes widened, the distress quickly being replaced by surprise.

"That's alright, I promise I won't steal all the covers," he assured Victor as seriously as he could with his words drooping drowsily. A smile twitched at Victor's lips, and Yuuri felt absently pleased to have successfully wiped away the distress.

"Alright, then. Let's get you to bed," Victor said, a hint of laughter barely suppressed in his tone. Yuuri let out a pleased hum at that. Bed sounded magnificent.

They made it to the room without incident, and Yuuri stumbled inside, Victor dropping both their bags by the door. Yuuri tripped over to the blessed bed in the middle of the room, falling into it without a second thought.

"Yuuri, wait, do you want your pajamas?" Victor called, his voice reaching Yuuri's ears as though from through a great, long tunnel. Yuuri let out a garbled sound that was intended to signify a refusal before dropping deeply into sleep.

 

***

 

Yuuri woke slowly for the first time in a couple of days, sleep drifting quietly away and leaving him alert in a dimly lit room of which he had no recollection of entering. The decorations made it clear fairly quickly that it was a hotel room, and Yuuri yawned widely and unconcernedly, entirely used to waking up in unfamiliar hotel rooms after all his travels.

However, the sleepy groan that sounded in response to his movement was _not_ familiar, and Yuuri froze, glancing down and spotting one very asleep Victor Nikiforov snuggled into bed next to him.

Three days ago, he'd have thought he'd lost his marbles completely or was in some sort of impossible dream (and he did still wonder, just a bit); but today, he was mostly just a bit confused. Glancing around the room and spotting his bag by the door next to Victor's, vague, misshapen memories of the previous night started to return. Victor's conversation with the man working the front desk, the resultant argument, Victor's apologetic explanation that they'd have to share a room, the enthusiastic embrace of the bed - the memories were hazy, but they were enough to explain why he and Victor were in the same bed.

Satisfied, Yuuri snuggled back down into the bed, adjusting the glasses that had gotten a bit crooked during his ill-advised overnight fashion statement and glancing over at his bed-buddy - to see a pair of sleepy blue eyes blinking owlishly back at him.

"Good morning," Victor said lazily.

"'Morning, Victor," Yuuri returned with a small smile. Victor yawned, stretching on the bed and pushing himself up.

"What time is it?" Victor asked drowsily, already reaching to tilt the clock on the nightstand beside him. The numbers took a moment to sink in, and then Victor let out a startled yelp, shooting up. "We need to go!" he exclaimed, already searching for his clothes. Yuuri pushed himself out of bed and retrieved a new set of clothes from his bag, tossing them on quickly. He and Victor were out the door in minutes, with Victor heading for the lobby to check out and Yuuri heading for the car with both their bags.

Yuuri had only barely loaded the car and slipped into the passenger seat when Victor joined him, flashing him a quick smile before pulling out of the hotel parking lot. And they were back on the road in a flash, the small, sleepy town whose name Yuuri didn't remember fading into the distance.

"Where to today?" Yuuri asked once they were a bit down the road.

"Nizhny Novgorod," Victor responded, relaxing now that they were making good time once again. "Specifically, to Bolshaya Pokrovskaya Street. And then we should be in St. Petersburg by tonight."

"Oh wow, so quickly," Yuuri said, surprised, and Victor shot him an amused grin.

"Not sick of me yet, then?" he teased, and Yuuri laughed.

"Well, it's a close call, but I think I could stand a bit longer, if I had to," Yuuri joked, shrugging as though the mere thought were a huge imposition.

"Good," Victor responded with a fond smile, and Yuuri felt strangely warm at the familiarity that had sprung up between them. Victor was nothing like what he'd imagined - he was so much more.

The ride passed quickly and easily, the few hours between where they'd stopped and Novgorod slipping away with minimal pauses in the conversation, and they were pulling up on the city far more quickly than Yuuri had expected.

"Here we are," Victor announced, pulling off, and Yuuri stared out the window as they pulled into the city. It was still light out, though the sky was staring to pinken, signifying sunset's approach. The streets were lined by quaint-looking buildings that spoke of an era gone by, though the buildings look well-kept enough to be practically new.

"It's adorable," Yuuri commented, smiling at the sight of visitors milling about, many with their arms laden with shopping bags or munching on something as they walked. Victor hummed his agreement, navigating the streets until he found a place to park. They both stepped out of the car, and Victor turned to him, grinning.

"Ready?" he asked, eyes alight with excitement. Yuuri nodded, the enthusiasm infectious as he fell into step beside the other man.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking up at Victor, and Victor just shrugged, brilliant smile still in place.

"I dunno - wherever we want," he responded happily, and Yuuri laughed, finding the response so perfectly Victor and content to just follow Victor wherever.

They went everywhere, as far as Yuuri could tell, ducking in and out of shops with Victor excitedly examining everything he could get his hands on - from the cheesiest tourist souvenir to the most expensive-looking hand-spun glass artifacts. Yuuri found himself in the curious position of alternating between feeling strangely like a parent monitoring an especially excitable large child and feeling like a child himself, in awe of the sights and sounds and smells around them.

They stopped in a few different places to try some foods Victor recommended, munching on different things with names Yuuri didn't even attempt to pronounce as they walked down the streets, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the city. It was enchanting, like stepping slightly out of time, to see the street lamps light up over the stone walkways, the consistent quiet chatter of conversations carrying on around them as they wandered down the streets in pleasant aimlessness.

Yuuri felt like the best way to describe his emotions was simply - contentment. Exquisite, perfect contentment. He was warm and happy and calm, sharing the crisp evening with Victor, strolling down a foreign street after a perfect day. Yuuri thought wistfully to himself that he wished it didn't have to end - but it was starting to get dark, and he knew they'd have to get back on the road soon.

He started to turn towards Victor, to reluctantly remind him they still needed to get on the road, when Victor spun towards him, eyes gleaming excitedly.

"I have one last thing to show you, and then we should probably go," Victor said with a bright grin, and Yuuri smiled automatically in response.

"Alright," he agreed readily, and Victor beamed, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him down the street hurriedly. Yuuri laughed at the other man's antics, lengthening his strides so that Victor wasn't having to tug so much. Some of the other tourists stared as they dashed by, but Yuuri didn't care all that much, committing to memory the streets streaking by as he hurried through Bolshaya Pokrovskaya Street with Victor.

They seemed to get pretty far away from the street, leaving behind the conversations and lights and laughter, Victor pulling him through streets and parking lots seemingly at random until all Yuuri could really tell was that they were moving away and in the general direction of _up_. He wondered what Victor was up to, trusting that the other man had a purpose.

Finally, Victor slowed to a stop. They were on a slight incline, as far as Yuuri could tell, with nothing particularly notable anywhere around them - just dark slopes of grass slanting away from them. The quietness settled over the area like a cozy blanket of privacy, almost jarring after a day surrounded by people, but pleasantly so. Yuuri glanced around wondering why they were here, eyes coming to a rest on Victor and tilting his head questioningly. Victor only smiled and pointed. Yuuri followed his finger, an awed smile spreading over his face at the sight lying at the end.

It was nothing more or less than the city, glowing lightly by street lamp against the night sky, the hustle and bustle dwindling to serene beauty in the quiet of their removal from its midst. From where they were, though, Yuuri could see more than just the one street - the outline of a bridge sloped across the background, leading to more gleaming street lamps and buildings that stretched from miles and shone across the dark sky.

"It's stunning, Victor," Yuuri breathed, the warmth of the day melding easily with the serenity of the scene before him. He turned to aim a grateful smile at the other man, breath catching at Victor's startling closeness, the golden lights of the city gleaming off silver hair. And Victor was looking at him with that unfathomable look in his eyes again, a look that was somehow curious and fascinated and cautious all at once.

"Yuuri," Victor said softly, his voice low. It wasn't until Victor dropped his hand that Yuuri realized they hadn't let go, but before he could even wonder at the loss of contact, that hand came up tentatively to brush against Yuuri's hair, settling cautiously against Yuuri's cheek, and he leaned into it instinctively. The strange feeling of fragile electricity that he'd felt in Moscow was back, creating a magnetic pull that tugged Yuuri's eyes back up to Victor's, a mixture of cautiously hopeful confusion and curiosity swirling within. But something about the mixture solidified something for Victor, and Yuuri glimpsed the briefest moment of determination before the palm on his cheek was angling his head up and Victor was bending down and -

With the perfect way the day had gone, Yuuri couldn't say with certainty whether the fireworks going off behind his eyes were real or simply a manifestation of his own shocked pleasure. Soft lips pressed against his own with the kind of gentleness that spoke of fervent treasure, and the moment seemed to extend to infinity but ended all too soon.

Victor drew back, a question in his eyes that was quickly answered by the slow smile spreading involuntarily across Yuuri's face. The other man's face lit up, eyes sparkling in the dim light of the night sky, and Yuuri's heart felt ready to burst with happiness as they turned as one back to the city.

They walked back slowly, but still hand-in-hand.

 

***

 

The last leg of their journey, the ride to St. Petersburg, was warm and easy, simple jokes and quiet stories passing steadily back and forth between them. Despite the hour, Yuuri was in no danger of falling asleep this time, too full of a peaceful energy that reflected the contentment of the day. It hadn't been a perfect journey by any means, but it had been perfect for him. Tomorrow, he'd fly out of St. Petersburg, away from Victor and back to all his problems and failures and shortcomings, and he could feel the anxiety simmering beneath the surface - but that wasn't a problem for now, that was a problem for another day, and he was determined to enjoy these last peaceful, joyful moments in the car with Victor.

Besides, even if their trip was ending, this, this - _whatever_ this was with Victor was only just getting started, and that was enough for him.


End file.
